With A Twist: M-Rated Scenes
by Dmarx
Summary: A collection of M-rated one-shots exploring various 'what if' scenarios. #2: What if… the case from Time of Our Lives took place between 4x21 and 4x22, and Kate was the one who ended up in an alternate universe?
1. Chapter 1

_I was planning to keep these one-shots T rated, but then this happened. If/when any of these other scenarios end up being M rated, they'll be posted here. _

_I haven't written anything M rated in like 4 years, so hopefully this doesn't suck._

* * *

**#1: What if… Castle responded to "why don't you two just drop your pants and get it over with" with action?**

**Prompt by Lou**

* * *

_"Oh for God's sake," Kate snaps, can't even believe she's about to say this, "why don't you two just drop your pants and get it over with?"_

"I'm game," Castle replies without hesitation, already reaching for his belt buckle. He loosens the leather strap, unbuttons and unzips his jeans, all while both Beckett and Will look on in semi-horror. The pants fall from his waist, dropping to the floor around his ankles and leaving him standing next to her desk in his boxers. Boxers that don't do a whole lot to hide the obvious bulge between his legs.

Okay, so he's fairly well-endowed, it would appear.

Kate closes her eyes, forces herself to be annoyed. "Castle, what the hell are you doing?" she finally snaps, hoping she's managed her usual degree of authority.

"Exactly what you suggested," he answers with an unaffected shrug. "Though it doesn't work as well when one of us isn't willing to participate."

She huffs in irritation, because this is just beyond ridiculous. "It was obviously rhetorical. Pull your pants back up."

He does, and Kate resolutely _doesn't_ watch as he re-situates his jeans low on his hips and fastens them, re-buckling his belt. But as the day wears on, she can't banish the memory from her mind, or the image of the silk-covered bulge, hidden by just a thin layer of fabric. It's been a while. Longer than she'd like to admit. She has no doubt it would be…

No.

She's not going to sleep with Castle.

But her traitorous mind seems to have other ideas, and when she walks into the room as the FBI tech is wiring him up and catches a glimpse of his bare torso, it only piles on to her growing desire.

Damn it.

She wants him. Despite his constant bickering with Will, despite the fact that he irritates the hell out of her, she wants him. Badly.

* * *

He finds her in the gym the next afternoon following her shift, after Will is gone and the paperwork from the case is complete. She thought he'd left, and she'd come down here to pound her desire and frustration into the punching bag, but Castle's reappearance erases what little progress she's made.

"What do you want?" she huffs.

"I think the better question is what do you want?"

Kate hurls her fist at the bag, connects with a satisfying thwunk. "Excuse me?"

"It's okay, Detective, you can admit it," he says, approaching her far too confidently, eyes twinkling, smug eyebrow raised. "It's just us."

She winds up, swings a foot at the bag this time and sends it jolting away from her before it swings back and she catches it in both hands.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

He shrugs. "Not at the moment. Besides, I think you're glad that I'm here."

Kate snorts. "Absolutely not."

"Really?" he asks, eyeing her up and down, gaze momentarily stopping on her heaving chest before returning to her face. "Then why have you been staring at my crotch all day?"

Her face gets hot. Very hot. Crap. He noticed that? She thought she was being subtle.

"It's the silk boxers, isn't it?" he teases. "They're so soft, you've been dying to touch them."

Kate turns her attention back her workout, lands two more punches. She's not thinking about his underwear. Or what lies beneath. She's not.

She steps back, turns in preparation for another assault on the punching bag, and winds up right in his arms. "Or maybe," he utters, low and sexy, both hands cupping her shoulders, "you're dying to see what's underneath."

* * *

Shit.

She's so screwed.

He's close, so close, and he's touching her bare shoulders, thumbs flirting with the straps of her tank top and palms so soft and smooth on her skin. Her eyes drop to his crotch without permission and she forces herself to drag them away because _this is not helping_, but then they land on his chest – the surprisingly toned chest she caught glimpses of yesterday afternoon – and that's not helping either.

Kate drags her gaze up to his face, but that proves to be the worst of all because his eyes are wide, pupils blown, the blue of his irises relegated to a thin ring around the edge of the wild darkness. He's looking at her like he wants to devour her.

"Castle," she protests, except it isn't a protest at all. It's breathy and encouraging and far too sexy. One thumb releases the edge of her tank top, strokes up along the curve of her neck. She bites her lip to repress a shudder, watches his eyes instantly home in on the movement.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs as he leans in. He swallows and she watches it ripple down his throat, and this is a terrible idea but she doesn't want him to stop. She wants to press her lips to his adam's apple, feel the scratch of his stubble against her skin.

They shouldn't do this. There are so many reasons this shouldn't happen, but they all vanished from her mind the moment his hands landed on her skin and, in the moment, all she wants is him.

"Don't stop."

* * *

His lips descend the moment the words leave her mouth, hot as they slick over hers. His hands slide up to cup her jaw, tilting it enough to deepen the kiss and holy hell, this has escalated so quickly. Kate reaches for something, anything, winds up with two handfuls of his shirt. She tugs and he stumbles closer, backing her into the punching bag. He tears his lips from hers, redirecting them to her neck, and she feels her knees weaken as he sucks on her pulse point. Castle drops his arms to catch her around the waist, tugging her closer, and she can feel his need pressing against her hip.

"Oh God," she breathes as his tongue dips into her collarbone, teeth scraping gently against her skin. Her knees buckle and it's only his grip around her waist that keeps her from crumbling to the ground. He's hot and pulsing against her thigh and he presses into her as she slides over him.

Castle groans, hands spreading over her ass, pulling her impossibly closer. One hand moves up, finding its way under the fabric of her tank top while the other flirts with the waistband of her yoga pants, dipping beneath and quickly discovering the thin strip of her underwear.

She's been tugging at his buttons for… a while? She's lost all concept of time. But she can't focus, and she still has wraps on her hands from her workout, and she's only managed to free one of the buttons. Kate gives up on them, yanking his shirt from his jeans and reaching for his belt.

His right hand has found the edge of her sports bra now, fingers tracing the line of spandex around her side to graze the edge of her breast. His left hand is following a similar path around the other side of her body, fingers traveling along the edge of her underwear until they reach the front of her hip and dip beneath the fabric to swirl around the point of bone. He tugs at the waistband of both pants and thong, and it's that movement that finally snaps her back to reality.

"Castle." The only response is the hum of his lips against her neck. She tries again, receives a similar response. "Castle," Kate pants, stronger this time and coupled with the press of her palms against his chest.

He stumbles back, looking both heated and confused.

"We can't do this here."

"Right." He pulls his hands out of her clothes, starts to move back, but she fists her hands in his shirt again, stops him before he can move away.

"Locker room," she hisses, tilting her head to the opposite wall of the gym.

His hands are back on her in an instant; he hoists her off the ground and she wraps her legs around him in a move that's far too synchronized for two people who have never done this before. Castle grunts, loses his balance slightly and they both teeter into the punching bag before he rights them and crosses to the locker room in large, determined strides. Kate loops her arms around his neck and focuses on freeing her hands, hastily unwinding the wraps and tossing them to the ground.

He kicks the door open with a foot, and the moment they're inside he has her pressed up against it, pushing it shut with her back. Kate reaches behind her, fumbling for a moment before she finds the lock. It clicks into place and from there it's fast and furious. She unbuttons and unzips his jeans as her bare feet find purchase on the cold concrete floor. Her knuckles brush against his hard length as the metal teeth release, and the pants fall to his ankles. Castle stumbles as he toes off his shoes and socks and steps out of the confines of the denim. Both hands slide up the back of her tank top and Kate raises her arms, allows him to peel the fabric off her sweaty skin and toss it aside. She shifts her focus to his shirt once again, finds it easier to maneuver the buttons when his lips aren't on her skin, but this is not okay because she very much wants his lips on her skin again.

Right now.

The shirt falls open as his hands slide beneath her waistband, palms spreading across her ass before his hands curl around the fabric and tug. By mutual silent agreement they switch jobs, Castle focusing on sliding his shirt off his arms while Kate shimmies out of her pants, leaving them both heaving and flushed and clad only in their underwear.

There's a moment of silence, some mixture of shock and _oh my God, this is happening_, but no, this isn't supposed to be tender or romantic. So Kate reaches for her bra, crossing her arms to grab the elastic band and pulling it over her head in one smooth movement that leaves Castle gaping. She reaches for his waistband next, stretching it out and over his erection before tugging the boxers down his legs, revealing the part of his anatomy that started it all.

Kate swallows hard.

Oh, _fuck._

"Like what you see?" he utters with a raised eyebrow.

Kate levels him with a glare. Smug jackass.

He reaches for her thong, slips his fingers beneath the fabric and tugs it down her legs. "You know, you're sexy when you're pretending to be mad at me."

"I'm not pretendi…" she begins to protest, but then his fingers are on her and the words die on her lips because, yeah, she can't really be mad at him when he's making her feel like _this_. Her head falls back against the door and Castle's lips descend to her neck as his fingers swirl around her center.

"You're so wet," he groans against her skin.

Two fingers slid inside of her then and she can't bite back the whimper that escapes because oh God, he's good at this.

His lips trail across her collarbone, down to the curve of her breast, and she wraps her arms around his neck while pressing back against the door so she can lift one leg and loop it around his hip, holding him close and opening herself to him. He's still working her with his fingers, the heel of his hand pressing against her clit with the change in position, and then his lips close over her left breast and a shudder wracks her entire body. She's already so close.

Kate slips an arm between them, wraps lithe fingers around his throbbing length and strokes once, twice, before he's pulling his lips away from her skin on a groan. "God, Beckett."

She brushes a thumb across his tip and he twitches in her hand as his hips buck into her. Okay, so he's close too then.

"Condom," he breathes, eyes heavily lidded as he watches the movement of her hand as she lazily strokes him again from base to tip.

"I'm clean," she replies. "And on the pill."

"Me too," he answers automatically before lifting his eyes to find her gazing at him in amusement. "To the first part."

She tightens her other hand around his neck in response and presses off the ground with her foot, trusting him to catch her even though they have no right to be this in sync. He does, large hand spanning her ass as her right leg joins her left around his waist.

Kate strokes his tip along her core, coating him in her wetness before she pauses with him at her entrance, and for a split second they're suspended in this moment that she knows was inevitable; and then he presses into her and she sinks down over him until their hips are flush, and oh God, why did they wait so long to do this? He's hot and solid inside her, filling her completely, and he gives her a moment to adjust before sliding out and slamming back in. Her inner muscles flutter around him as her eyes flutter shut, and he must notice because he repeats the movement again. And again.

Kate drags her eyes open to find him gazing at her in awe, eyes awash with something that looks far too much like adoration. So she twists her hips on his next thrust; his eyes go wide and the hunger returns, and before it has a chance to disappear again she leans in and captures his lips with her own in a kiss that's hot and sloppy and thrust of his hips presses her harder against the door and she knows she's going to be sore tomorrow but she can't bring herself to care when he's devouring her lips and thrusting into her in a rhythm that's already beginning to falter.

"I'm so close," she whispers against his lips.

Castle slips a hand between them, finds her clit. One, two, three swipes and she's shattering around him as he pulses inside of her, and then they both slide to the floor in a sweaty, sticky, breathless tangle.

Holy shit.

* * *

_Thoughts?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Truthfully, this one-shot exists because I'm an idiot. I received a prompt based on _Time Will Tell_, and when I posted about it on Twitter I mistakenly confused it with _Time of Our Lives_ (insert facepalm emoji here). Fortunately, a couple people were kind enough to point this out. But you guys had already sent me a bunch of ideas, so I decided to run with it and write this version too._

_A million thank yous to everyone who sent me plot suggestions! And thanks as always to Andy for the beta :)_

* * *

**#2:** **What if… the case from _Time of Our Lives_ took place between 4x21 and 4x22, and Kate was the one who ended up in an alternate universe?**

* * *

_What do you want to do?_

_I want to f*** his brains out_

Kate is replaying her accidental (and rather mortifying) slip-up in Burke's office yesterday evening as she packs away the evidence from their case, stacking photos into a box and organizing witness accounts and CSU reports. The briefcase sits open on the table and she pauses her clean-up efforts to carefully lift the medallion, turns it over in her hands. It's lighter than she expected. She's still not entirely sure why it was worth killing for, but she can't deny its beauty. She runs a finger over the intricate engravings, admiring the ancient artifact in the early morning light.

She'd spent the night tossing and turning – her new normal, apparently – and at 5:00am finally gave up on any pretense of sleep and decided she may as well head to the precinct and get an early start on the day. They closed the case the previous evening, but she hasn't had a chance to begin any of the paperwork.

Kate is about to place the medallion back in the briefcase when the precinct suddenly and inexplicably vanishes around her and she feels herself tilting backwards, falling. But before she can even attempt to catch herself, she's landing on her back and sinking into something soft and fluffy.

She bolts upright and looks around in confusion, taking stock of herself and her surroundings. Nothing hurts and she seems to be fully intact. And she's… in bed? But this isn't her bed. The sheets are way too high quality and she doesn't recognize this bedroom. The covers on the other side of the bed are thrown back, but there's a soft imprint in the pillow and mattress and when she runs her hand over it, the fabric is still warm. Someone has been here. Recently.

She pulls her hand away, surveys the room. Light filters in through the curtains behind her, casting everything in the golden glow of early morning. An elephant and a lion watch over her from giant paintings that hang from the wall to her right, and the door to an en suite bathroom sits open to her left. The fourth wall is made of bookshelves, and Kate's eyes widen as realization dawns.

She spent the night with Castle?

Kate narrows her eyes, wracks her brain. The last thing she recalls is him hobbling into the elevator not long after Slaughter departed, hands cradling his bruised torso. She doesn't remember him calling her or coming back to the precinct. And as far as she can remember, he no longer wants anything to do with her. So how did she end up in his bed with absolutely no memory of how she got here?

The soft clanking of dishware and smell of freshly brewed coffee filter into the room and coax Kate out of bed. The cool morning air caresses her skin as the covers fall away, and she's only now realizing that she's completely naked. Her underwear, tank top, and a silk robe lie discarded near her feet; she hastily she slips them on, wrapping the fabric tightly around herself and securing the belt as she makes her way to the kitchen. Even so, she feels uncomfortably exposed.

Castle is there, also clad in a bathrobe, and pouring coffee into two ceramic mugs. He smiles as she approaches. "Morning," he greets. As though it's the most normal thing in the world that she's here.

Kate furrows her brow, shakes her head. But no. She's got nothing. She's still thoroughly befuddled when Castle steps up behind her, one hand sliding around her waist and the other placing a steaming mug of coffee on the counter in front of her.

"For you," he murmurs, lips at her ear. His body fits so perfectly behind hers, her ass nestled within the cradle of his hips and his broad chest warm and solid at her back.

"Thanks," Kate stammers, the word laced with uncertainty.

He presses his lips to her neck and she shivers involuntarily. She feels him smirk against her skin, but before she can comment – not that she has any idea what she's planning to say – he's kissing her again and she's melting into him, coffee and confusion abruptly forgotten. She drops her head back onto his shoulder and he wastes no time in exploring this newly exposed skin, gently nudging aside her hair and pressing his lips to the soft, sensitive spot behind her ear.

She's so enraptured by the ministrations of his mouth that she doesn't even notice the explorations of his hands until her robe falls open and one hand slips inside. He's sucking on the hollow of her collarbone now as his right hand shimmies beneath her tank top, thumb finding her nipple. The other glides between her legs; she's absolutely soaked already, and he easily slides two thick fingers inside as his thumb finds her clit. Her knees buckle, and if it weren't for him pressing her against the counter, she'd be a boneless puddle on his kitchen floor right now.

"Oh God, Castle," she pants.

His touch vanishes, and Kate nearly whimpers at the loss. But then she feels movement behind her, hears his bathrobe hit the floor. She bends forward, braces her forearms on the counter as Castle tugs up her robe, moves her underwear aside, and then he's sliding into her from behind, filling her completely. His arms make their way around her again, one hand easily locating her clit and the other skating beneath her shirt and spanning wide and warm over her stomach. It all feels so amazing, but she finds herself particularly drawn to where they're connected; the slick, smooth slide of him in and out and the way his fingers work over her so expertly. As though he already knows exactly what she likes.

She's been close since the first moment he touched her and all it takes is a few more strokes of her clit before she shatters, inner muscles clenching around him and her mind going blissfully blank. The last thing she's aware of before she collapses onto the counter, completely spent, is the hot pulse of him inside of her as he too tumbles into oblivion.

Castle cradles her as she comes down, as her heart gradually slows and her breathing rate eventually returns to normal. But it's a long moment before she's coherent enough to regain any semblance of awareness. He's still there, hips pressing her against the bar from behind. He's carding one hand through her hair, nails lightly scratching her scalp, while the other arm rests next to her, running the length of her upper body still sprawled across the bar.

Oh. Oh, God. That was… holy shit.

Kate slowly opens her eyes and pushes herself upright on shaky arms. Castle moves with her easily, stepping aside enough for her to stand but never relinquishing his hold. When she finally turns, he's gazing at her in wonder and the love sparkling in his eyes is enough to make her weak in the knees all over again.

He tucks a few errant strands of hair behind her ear, cradles her jaw so tenderly. "Hey," he murmurs with a smile.

"Uh, hey," she manages.

But even as he settles her against his chest, folds her into his embrace, bits and pieces are beginning to come back to her. Like the fact that she still doesn't know how she got here or why she has no memory of last night. And maybe it's the uncertainty of it all, or the discomfort that comes from having entire swaths of her memory mysteriously vanish. Maybe it's Castle's influence on her, his relentless desire for the story that makes all the pieces make sense. Whatever the reason, she needs to know. She can't keep pretending.

She takes a deep breath, steps out of his arms and meets his eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." He reaches for his coffee and takes a sip, all the while watching her intently.

"I, uh," she hesitates, debating how much to tell him. She doesn't want to hurt him by admitting that she doesn't remember their first night together – and oh, her stomach ties itself into a knot as that realization washes over. But she can't continue this – relationship? – without knowing how it began.

"Kate?" he prompts.

She's trying out the words in her head, finally settles on, "Did you invite me over last night?"

"Invite you?" he echoes. "No, not… I mean, I guess you could call it that? You came home with me after work. But at this point, you know that's a permanent invitation."

"At this point?"

He sets his coffee aside. "What?"

She startles, turns wide eyes to him. Crap. Did she say that out loud?

"Kate, what's going on?"

She takes a deep breath, releases it slowly. "I, uh, don't remember what happened last night."

"What do you mean, you don't remember?"

"I don't remember coming home with you," she explains. "Or going to bed with you. Or any of our… other activities."

He looks utterly confused, and she can completely relate.

"Did something happen?" Castle asks after a moment. He grabs her by the shoulders and leans in, eyes fluttering over her face in what seems to be a meticulous pattern. Next he smooths both hands gently through her hair, methodically searching her scalp, then tilts up her chin with one finger and examines her neck, and finally nudges her to turn until he's searched her entire body. By the time she's facing him again his eyes are grim and serious. "Kate, I think we should take you to the hospital."

"What, why?"

"Because I think…" He tilts her head to one side and leans down to closely inspect her neck once more. "I don't know how, but you must've been drugged or hit your head or something. I don't see any marks or bruises, but…" he pauses, releases her chin. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Kate sifts through her brain, attempting to put the fractured pieces into chronological order. "Going to the precinct this morning. I was about to start the paperwork from the artifact case."

"Wait a second," Castle states. "You went to the precinct this morning?"

"I…" she looks down at herself, half naked and clearly having not left the house since last night, "no…?"

"But you were doing paperwork?"

"I was cleaning up the murder board," she remembers. "I hadn't started the paperwork yet. And then I woke up here." Kate pauses, eyes widening in understanding. "Wait, am I remembering yesterday morning?"

"We didn't wrap up the case until last night."

"We?" she echoes.

"Uh, you and me," he enunciates, as though it should be obvious. "And Ryan and Esposito."

Kate shakes her head emphatically. If she's certain of anything, it's this. "No, you weren't there."

"What do you mean I wasn't there?"

"You were working with Slaughter," she insists. Why is he suddenly the one who doesn't seem to remember? "You found a new partner and…"

"New partner?" he interrupts, holds up a hand. "Okay, what's going on?"

Kate throws her hands into the air in desperation. "You tell me. Yesterday you were upset with me and suddenly this morning we're," she gestures between them, "this."

"This morning?" Castle echoes, and she watches as his confusion morphs into devastation. "You don't remember any of our relationship?"

Her eyes widen in shock. "What relationship?"

His entire body crumples then and the anguish in his eyes breaks her heart. And just when she thinks it can't possibly get any worse, he opens his mouth and his words shatter her to pieces.

"Kate, we've been dating for three months."

[...]

A prolonged, painful silence falls and Castle eventually slips from the kitchen, coffee in hand and tears in his eyes. She wants to go after him but something has her frozen in place. And even if she could unstick her feet from the floor, she doesn't know what she'd say. None of this makes any sense.

Three months? She's missing three months of memories? And even worse, she has no recollection of their burgeoning relationship; the beautiful happiness she just experienced, and yet she doesn't understand how they ended up there. But it's more than that. The memories she does have seem to be wrong. Castle was adamant that he'd been there working this case with her but she's positive he wasn't. And the timeline of what she _can_ remember is completely skewed.

Kate turns and rests her elbows on the bar, drops her head into her hands. She can't even begin to make sense of any of this. All she knows with certainty is that she wishes everything could magically go back to normal. As quickly as the thought crosses her mind, Castle's kitchen vanishes and the precinct reappears around her. Kate looks around, disoriented and confused. She's standing in front of the partially disassembled murder board with the medallion in her hand. From the light outside she can tell it's still early, and the precinct is quiet. The night shift is winding down and the rest of her team hasn't yet arrived. It's as though she was never even gone.

What just happened?

She's standing and she didn't drop the artifact, meaning she wasn't sleeping and it wasn't a dream. She supposes it could have been a daydream. But no. She's spent far more time than she cares to admit daydreaming about a relationship with Castle, and it's never been that real. She swallows hard, presses her thighs together at the memory.

And then there's the fact that they've been dating? For three months?

It doesn't make any sense. Three months ago she was dancing with him at Ryan and Jenny's wedding, but the distance between them – both physical and emotional – was carefully curated. And just yesterday she was practically in tears in Burke's office over Castle's distant behavior. They're definitely not in a relationship and, whatever she just experienced, it wasn't real.

But one thing is abundantly clear: she needs to talk to Castle. Whatever has come between them these last three weeks, whatever is causing him to pull away… she needs to confront him. They need to sort this out. She's spent the better part of the last year painstakingly dismantling the wall around her heart so they can be together, and she's not about to give up without a fight. Especially not now. Not after… that. It's always been eventual with him. Hypothetical. Hazy visions of a distant future that never quite coalesced.

But now…

It's no longer imaginary. She was there. She felt the joy, the passion, the tenderness. She basked in the love – not the secret, subdued love that's been simmering beneath the surface for the past eleven months. No, this was Castle with his heart wide open, the two of them encapsulated by a love that was fiercer and more all-encompassing than she ever thought possible. It was unlike anything she's ever experienced, and she wants to feel it again. She wants it so badly it hurts. Wherever she went, whatever bizarre daydream world she was in, she needs it to not be a dream. She needs it to be her reality.

She's done with walls. And she's done waiting.

[…]

Twenty minutes later Kate is standing outside the loft, one hand poised to ring the buzzer and the other clutching the medallion for… courage? She's not exactly sure, but she can't seem to release her hold on the mysterious artifact. After all, she wouldn't be here right now without it.

She hesitates, finger hovering in front of the button; maybe this is a terrible idea. What is she even supposed to say?

_Hey Castle, I just got back from this future where you and I were together and it was intense and amazing, and I know you don't have feelings for me anymore but I think we should give it a shot._

Even in her own head, she sounds ridiculous.

She shouldn't be here. Castle has moved on and it's time for her to do the same. Clearly it was never meant to be. She can scarcely imagine a future without him, but maybe she'll ultimately be better off.

Kate drops her arm and is turning away from the loft when the floor falls out from under her and she's plopped unceremoniously into a chair. As her vision clears, she finds herself at her desk at the precinct, surrounded by case files. Her phone is ringing, and she automatically fishes it from beneath a stack of papers and raises it to her ear. "Beckett."

It's Esposito, relaying the address of a new crime scene, and she digs up a sticky note and a pen and jots it down. It's only as she's ending the call that she notices; Castle's chair is missing. And the man himself is nowhere to be found. She turns in her chair, searching the entire precinct but finding no sign of him.

Kate returns her attention to her phone, dials his number. It rings a few times before sending her to his answering machine, so she leaves a message. "Hey Castle, it's Beckett. We caught a case, I'll text you the address."

Her phone vibrates in her back pocket a minute later as she's zipping her jacket. Presumably it's his reply to her text, but she pulls it out to check just in case it's from someone else. It's not. It's from him. But the message on her screen is entirely unexpected.

_I think you have the wrong number._

_Is this Richard Castle?_ She messages back, abandoning her search for her keys.

_Yes. Who is this?_

_It's Beckett._

_I'm sorry, I don't know any Beckett. _

She furrows her brow. It's not April Fools' Day, but maybe he's playing a prank on her? Kate dials his number again and is relieved to hear his voice on the other end of the line. "Hello?"

"Hey Castle, it's Beckett."

"The person who just texted me," he states.

She frowns. "Yeah, are you coming?"

"Coming where?" he asks. "I don't know who you are or why you texted me your address."

"It's not my address, it's our crime scene."

"Crime scene?"

She pulls the phone away from her ear, looks at the screen. It's definitely his voice and his phone number. Yet he seems… serious. As though he actually doesn't know who she is or what she's talking about. And when she puts the phone back to her ear, she's met with nothing but silence. He hung up on her? Kate furrows her brow, continues to stare at the device. As though if she looks hard enough, this will all begin to make sense. But no. She's got nothing. Unless…

Maybe he's in trouble? Oh, God. What if someone has a gun to his head and this is his way of sending her a message? It's the only explanation that makes sense.

She runs a trace on his phone and it comes back with the address of his loft. She dashes to the stairwell, no time to wait for the elevator, takes the stairs two, sometimes three at a time. She practically leaps into her cruiser, tears out of the parking garage with her sirens blazing and speeds across town to the loft. She bypasses the elevator once again, racing up the stairs as fast as she can and pounding on the door. It swings open a moment later, and she's never been so grateful to see Castle's face.

"Oh, thank God you're okay."

One hand is still on the door handle and he braces the other against the frame, assesses her with uncertainty. "Do I know you?"

Kate leans forward, attempts to catch a glimpse inside, but she can't see beyond the foyer and he makes no move to grant her entrance. "Castle, what's going on with you? Is there… are you in trouble?"

"Why would I be in trouble?" he asks, holding his ground.

She slides her gun back into its holster. "Because you're acting like you don't know who I am."

He narrows his eyes, clears his throat. "I, uh, don't know who you are."

"Castle, it's me."

He merely shakes his head. Kate places both hands on her hips, regards him with obvious disapproval. "Seriously?"

"Your voice…" he pauses. "You're the woman who just called me."

"Okay, that's enough. I'm calling Ryan and Esposito."

"Who?"

She doesn't answer and he watches in confusion as she pulls out her phone, dials a number and then says, "Hey, it's me. Meet me at Castle's place." A pause and then, "What? Of course you do." Another silence. "Guys, stop messing around. This has gone far enough."

Castle can just barely hear a male's voice on the other end of the line, but he can't make out the words. Judging by her apparent bewilderment as the call abruptly ends, though, he gathers that he's not the only one confused by this series of events.

Kate slowly pockets her phone, and when she finally meets his eyes again hers are filled with tears. "Castle, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

His words are so detached, not even a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, and it's the final straw. A few tears spill over and she can't find the will to stop them. "I know you're upset with me, but don't you think this is taking it a little far?"

"Taking what a little far? Are you sure you're okay?"

She flings her arms into the air in exasperation. "You're the one acting like we've never met."

"Okay, I'm calling the cops. I don't know who you are, but…"

Kate pulls out her badge. "I am the cops."

He studies it for a moment, returns his gaze to her face, and the disbelief is evident. "Right, um, look. You've clearly had a rough night. I don't know what you want from me, but I think you should go."

He really wants to play it like this? Like he's never met her before? Fine. She'll walk away and never contact him again and maybe somehow she'll find the strength to erase him from her life as completely as he's apparently expunged her. But not until he gives her an explanation. At the minimum, he owes her that.

"What did I do?" Kate asks after a long moment, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. "I promise after this I'll leave you alone, since that's what you clearly want. We can pretend the last three years never happened. But I deserve an explanation."

He's still staring at her with a blank look in his eyes. "Three years?"

She opens her mouth to speak, finds herself completely at a loss for words. Does he really hate her so much that he can't even acknowledge the existence of their partnership?

"I don't know what you want from me," he finally replies. "I'm sorry. I hope you find the explanation you're looking for."

He steps back and begins to close the door. "Rick, please." He hesitates slightly, but it's enough for Kate to seize what is undeniably her last chance to get through to him. "I'm in love with you," she chokes out, barely more than a whisper. "And if any part of you still feels the same about me, please just… give me another chance. Give us a chance."

"I think you should go," he replies flatly. And then he's closing the door and she hears the deadbolt click into place with heart-wrenching finality. Kate turns and presses her back against the cold metal, sinks to the floor and buries her face in her hands as the emotions come flooding out with the force of a hurricane. She's sobbing so hard her chest hurts, tears streaming down her face and soaking her clothes, and she's utterly powerless to stop them.

She never imagined this is how it would end.

She just wants her partner back.

[…]

The thought has barely crossed her mind when the door opens behind her and she tumbles backwards into the unsuspecting legs of…

"Castle?"

"Beckett?" He leans forward and glances out into the hallway, then down to the woman inexplicably strewn across his feet. "What, uh, are you doing here?"

Kate picks herself up, takes stock of her surroundings. "I'm actually not sure." She vaguely remembers coming here earlier but she's not sure why she was sitting on the floor.

"What's in your hand?"

She follows his gaze to her left hand, still clutching the medallion, and suddenly it all comes rushing back.

"It's, uh, from the case."

"Why do you have it?"

Kate hesitates. Unbelievable or not, she has to explain this to him. She just has absolutely no idea where to start.

"Can we sit?" she asks, buying herself some time.

"Uh, sure."

Castle closes the door and follows her to the living room. She sets her jacket on the coffee table, places the artifact carefully on top of it before sinking into the corner of the sofa. After recent events, the familiarity of being here in the loft – the _real_ loft, with the _real_ Castle – is a welcome relief. Castle wordlessly settles into the next cushion over, waits for her to speak. It's then that she realizes: no matter the uncertain state of things between them, he's still a novelist. He craves the story. So she starts from the beginning. Castle listens dutifully, his face initially blank, but as the story unfolds he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, captured by the intrigue.

"Where did it take you?" he finally asks.

"I, uh," she hesitates, "to two different… I don't know. Futures?"

"You… time traveled?" Castle sits back in obvious disbelief. "Okay, this is clearly a dream."

"It's not," she says hastily while he pinches himself in the arm, lets out a yelp, and apparently comes to the same conclusion.

"You – Kate Beckett – traveled into the future?"

"The future, a parallel universe, alternate reality, whatever," she rattles off. "Look, that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"In one of the…" she pauses, clearly debating her word choice, "universes, you and I had never met," she begins. "And in the other, we were…" she lowers her voice and averts her eyes, "together."

"Together?" he echoes. "As in… _together_ together?"

Kate nods.

"What happened?"

"Well, in the together one we were," she twirls her wrist a couple times, "you know."

Castle looks away, clears his throat.

"In the other one, I showed up at your place and you had no idea who I was. It was like our partnership never happened. I kept trying to explain but you just thought I was crazy. "

"I see," he replies, and she can't decide from his tone if he's becoming disinterested or has decided she's making the whole thing up.

"You ended up turning me away," Kate continues. It's not like she has anything left to lose by sharing the rest of the story, so she presses on. "And I just… broke."

"Broke?" This seems to have at least somewhat recaptured his attention.

"I collapsed in the hallway," she gestures toward the door, "and started sobbing uncontrollably. It hurt so badly I couldn't move." She shakes her head sadly. "I don't ever want to feel that way again."

"Well we've" he gestures between them, "met in this universe, so…"

"But the worst part..." she shakes her head sadly, trails off with a heavy sigh. Her adrenaline is fading rapidly, and reliving these awful memories is leaving her raw and exposed. Her courage seems to be vanishing as well.

"Kate?" he prompts.

"I was trying to convince you that it was real and I told you," her voice trembles and the words catch in her throat, "that I love you," she manages. "And then you shut the door in my face."

Castle doesn't speak right away and the silence stretches uncomfortably.

"You, uh," he finally clears his throat, "really?"

"Really," she affirms, offers a tentative smile.

"In this universe too?"

Kate chokes out something resembling a laugh. "Yes."

She watches his eyes fill with hope and her heart flutters happily, but then the hesitance creeps in around the edges and her heart tumbles into a free-fall. This can't be… it's happening again? He's going to turn her away? Or is she actually in yet another alternate reality? But then his hands are cupping her jaw and his lips are on hers, and it feels just as incredible as she remembers from a few hours – days? – ago. She's lost all concept of time. Not that it matters. Castle is kissing her; she really doesn't care about anything else.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he breaks the kiss. "For the way I've been acting."

"It's okay," she assures him. It's not exactly, but they can talk about it later. Kate lowers her head to the crook of his neck, feels the warmth of Castle's cheek as he leans against the top of her head. His arms find their way around her, holding her close.

"This is the medallion?" he asks after a long moment. She lifts her head to follow his line of sight, nods. "How does it work?"

"Well, right before the second reality I was wondering if maybe I'd be better off without you."

"So it reads your thoughts and brings them to life?"

She shrugs. "Something like that."

"Hmmm." Castle pauses, considers. "So what were you thinking before the first one?"

Kate lifts her head, fixes him with a glare. Sort of. But she can feel herself blushing furiously and is forced to abandon her feigned annoyance. "Shut up."

He waggles his eyebrows and she purses her lips, but after a moment he turns serious again. "I'm glad it brought you back to this universe."

She smiles softly. "Me too."

"And I'm sorry that alternate universe me turned you away."

"I mean," she admits with a tilt of her head and a shrug of one shoulder, "if you were the one who showed up at my door, I'd have done the same."

"Well, if you ever end up in another universe…" he's grinning again, eyes twinkling with mischief, and Kate preemptively swats his chest. Castle captures her hand before it can fall away, cradles it over his heart, and she can feel it beating wildly beneath her palm. "Just know that I love you in all of them."

* * *

_Thoughts?_


End file.
